


Can You Hear Heaven Cry

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-23
Updated: 2010-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 5.22 – No matter where he is, what he does, or the decisions he makes, Castiel always hears Dean’s prayers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can You Hear Heaven Cry

_Hey Cas. You always heard me…praying…before, and you were the only one who ever answered. Don’t really expect that this time, but I guess I was at least hoping you’d hear me again. Guess I’ll have to take it on faith that you do, huh?_

_Anyway, the point is, I want to thank you. Maybe I wish some things were different, and maybe in the end I question everything that happened. But that’s just…being human. You knew that, once. But I wanted to thank you, because no matter how things are, no matter what I wish could be different, the world got saved. And a big part of that was because of you._

_So… y’know… just, thanks._

_For everything._

~*~

Heaven is in chaos. So many angels have been killed. Others have been turned, more prepared to join the Fallen in Hell rather than face their punishment in Heaven. Their Father remains silent, their leader has been cast down. Those left are scared to make a move, scared to say a word. Terrified to think a single original thought, and after what felt like its own separate lifetime on Earth, learning to think and feel and act for himself for the last two years, it is…tedious, to be here, trying to sort through everything and put his home back together.

Somewhere along the line, it stopped feeling like home. Somewhere along the line, Earth _started_ to, and the desire to go back is so strong. And he is already so tired.

~*~

_Cas, I’ve been here a month, and I don’t know, man. Starting to go a little stir-crazy. After the last few years, I never thought I’d be itching for a hunt, but I guess when it’s in the blood, it’s in the blood. Trying to make it work here…trying to keep my promise, y’know? Lisa’s…she’s somethin’ else. I dunno how she puts up with me. Ben’s thrilled, havin’ me around, which is a little whacked. I ain’t exactly a kid person. But he’s pretty great. Neither of them ever say anything about the nights I wake up yelling for Sam…_

_I gotta take Ben to Little League practice tomorrow, which is, y’know, different. Next week, I’ve got an interview at the garage – all classic cars, and the owner couldn’t believe when I told him I rebuilt my baby from the ground up. I guess it could be good._

_Jesus, I’m fuckin’ rambling. And you probably got better things to be doing than listening to me. But things are okay here. I’m…christ, not okay, not really, but maybe I’m getting there. I miss…Sammy. Fuck, I miss Sammy. And…_

_I hope you’re okay, Cas._

~*~

Time is all but meaningless in Heaven, but Castiel finds that in Dean’s prayers, he has a way of keeping track, for all the good it will do him. A month for the hunter…a decade for him. A decade of trying to organize, trying to find order in turmoil, reassuring those who are so desperately afraid, and keeping those who would cause trouble in line as much as he can.

It’s not so difficult, at first. Michael and Gabriel are both gone, and Raphael is off licking his wounds and soothing his pride. For the duration of that time, there is no angel who ranks higher than Castiel does, and no one who would dare question one who was brought back by God’s hand not once, but twice.

For that time, there is at least something resembling peace.

Eventually though, Raphael returns. And then the true problems begin.

~*~

_Been a few weeks since I talked to you, Cas. Doubt you noticed. Hell, if you even hear me yammering away at you. Been pretty busy though. I got the job at the garage. Had to fight Tony, the owner, to be paid in cash. A lifetime of fraud doesn’t exactly make me eager to start opening bank accounts, y’know? But I’m good enough with the cars that Tony puts up with it and doesn’t question too much. Think Lisa’s glad to get me out of the house more, at any rate. Ben starts seventh grade soon, you believe that? Well, you never met the kid, but it’s crazy, take my word for it._

_I got wind of a hunt, next town over. Haven’t mentioned it to Lisa, but why call someone else when I’m right here? One poltergeist is an easy job, in and out, back for dinner. And, Jesus Cas, it’s like a buzz under my skin, this crazy need to be back out there. One hunt ain’t breaking any promises, and Sam would understand, right?_

_Gonna be honest though, I’ll miss the backup._

~*~

Castiel thinks Dean would be surprised by how much he notices the hunter’s long silences. He’s all but trapped in his war-torn home, fighting to keep order amongst a broken and battered family. Things are tenser now then they were when he first returned, quiet whisperings amongst the Host, unease spreading throughout the ranks of the older and younger angels alike. Raphael is all shining light and serpent-like smiles, and in the background, Castiel fears the elder archangel is planning his own rebellion. Already, he can sense the sides forming, one archangel, older and trusted, against another, newly elevated and favored of their Father.

More bloodshed is the only thing that can result from this, a war solely based in Heaven, and Castiel prays desperately for some way – _any_ way – to avoid such a thing. For longer than he cares to think about, his every prayer goes as unanswered as Dean’s prayers to him do.

~*~

_I’m okay. I figured you might want to know, if you didn’t already. Poltergeist was a nasty little fucker, and it took a couple days. Tony was pissed… calling out of work wasn’t exactly a priority, but he’ll get over it. Lisa was too…and I guess she might not. I dunno man, this life… It ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. Or maybe it’s just not with the right people. Hell if I know._

_What I do know is that getting out there again and killing some evil sons-of-bitches felt good._

_It felt really good._

~*~

The day Gabriel returns is not a special day. There are no trumpets – and if there had been, Castiel imagines Gabriel would have run screaming for mortality – and there is no fanfare. One instant, he is alone, seeking out a quiet moment of solitude, which has become more and more difficult to find as the Host becomes more and more restless, and the next, he is standing in the presence of a true archangel.

As Castiel has done, Gabriel chooses to mold his form into a shape familiar to him while here in Heaven, where true corporeal bodies cannot go. Amber eyes peer out from beneath a cap of wavy brown hair, and the sparkle there is unmistakable. This is truly Gabriel.

Castiel stands, unable to form words to say all that he would say to the brother who gave up his life for Castiel’s earthly family, and for humanity as a whole. Gabriel’s hand comes down on his shoulder, and he grins and murmurs something about their Father favoring those who sided with _those damn muttonheads._

Castiel embraces him, and feels something like relief – something like _hope_ – for the first time since returning home.

~*~

_Five weeks since the poltergeist, and just when I’m finally getting back on Lisa’s good side, Tony turns out to be a fucking demon. You believe that crap? I would never have known, except some priest was getting his ’69 Mustang tuned and muttering Latin prayers under his breath, and I happened to catch Tony’s flinch._

_What the hell, dude?_

_Had myself a little interrogation-exorcism combo party. From what I can tell, most demons are holing up and hiding, pretty much fucking terrified now that the devil’s been re-caged. Explains why I haven’t been catching wind of more killings. Fuck if that doesn’t make it harder though… How are we supposed to catch the bastards if they’re acting just like normal people?_

_I guess by the ‘we’ you can tell where I’m going with this. But hell, someone has to do it. I gave it my best shot, and this picket-fence life just ain’t for me. I gotta believe Sam would understand that._

_I’m gonna miss the kid, though._

~*~

Gabriel’s return does not herald a sudden swing back into the days of peace and joy, though he was and is a favorite amongst the Host, and many of the angels Raphael had swayed to his side now flock to the resurrected archangel. Castiel is more than happy to lay low and allow Gabriel the responsibilities he himself hadn’t been fully able to handle, but there are still many who look to _him_ for guidance, for command. Many no longer trust in the original archangels at all, and it’s understandable. In their eyes, Gabriel abandoned them for selfish reasons, and not all are blind to Raphael’s quiet cruelty.

Still, Castiel wants no part of it, and the longer it goes on, the wearier he gets. More and more often, he looks toward Earth, listens for the voice of the friend he left behind. He sees Gabriel watching him sometimes, and always offers his brother a small smile. Gabriel has been nothing short of his saving grace since arriving, the only member of his family he can stand to be around for any amount of time.

The irony is not lost on him.

~*~

_Cas, I…think I’m losing it. Been back in the game for two months now, and mostly it’s been okay. Ganked some evil SOB’s, including some demons that I’ve been able to track down. Caught wind of Bobby two states over at one point where I was hunting, but not ready to go there yet. Think the guy deserves a break from all things Winchester._

_Point is, though, I’m losing my goddamn mind. Three times now, I’ve turned around and sworn…_

_Jesus Christ, Cas, I swore I saw Sammy. I don’t know what it could be, a spirit maybe, or a shapeshifter. But I’ve never seen him for more than a second, and there’s nothing…no signs, no EMF, no…anything. He’s just…there and gone and there’s never anything left behind. I don’t… Cas, I don’t know what to do._

_Thought I saw you the other day, too, but it was just some damn tax accountant wearing a trench coat. Tell you honestly, I was a little disappointed. Could use your help, right about now. Still hopin’ you’re okay._

~*~

Things are not getting better, not even with Gabriel here. In fact, they’re getting worse, and Castiel no longer knows what to do. He’s genuinely fearful that the war looming on the horizon can’t be stopped, and he wonders if his Father knows or cares about the children he’s going to lose. He wonders if He is disappointed with Castiel’s failure.

Whatever the case, Castiel refuses to have any part of it. He won’t watch his family kill each other, he _can’t_ , not after everything he’s seen, everything he’s done. It would destroy him in a way death never could.

The day he makes that decision, Gabriel’s looks turn to an uncharacteristically gentle understanding, and it’s not much longer before he seeks Castiel out during a rare moment the younger has to himself, away from the flock who has chosen to follow him.

Castiel can sense what Gabriel wants to tell him, can hear the harsh truth ringing in the archangel’s head, the one that tells him his family will never forgive him, if he does this thing. He already knows, and he stops Gabriel from saying the words with a shake of his head. If he were human, if he were in a human body, he thinks tears would be sliding down his face. He wishes he were, wants the freedom human emotions allow.

Gabriel tells him that he understands in a soft voice, and draws his little brother into his arms, whispering words of comfort to him. He tells Castiel that he’ll always love him, no matter what happens or where Castiel goes. Some part of Castiel trembles, and he allows himself to sink into the warmth of Gabriel’s grace for long moments.

~*~

_Cas. I got a bad feeling, lately. Fucking pit in my stomach. I hope to God I’m just being paranoid, or delusional, but… I just wish you’d tell me you were okay._

_I saw Sam again. He was eating french fries at the diner across from my motel._

_Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me?_

~*~

He doesn’t see Gabriel again before he leaves, but the archangel has not left Castiel without a direction to turn in. There are signs left for him, whispers in his mind where the others won’t hear, instructions given in code he must decipher if he’s to survive what’s to come. That’s how he learns of the gift Gabriel has left for him, hidden on Earth.

That’s how he learns that he has a body to return to, a body of his _own_. A body that looks just like James Novak, but which was created by Gabriel himself. A body that isn’t human, but will be an adequate and comfortable vessel for him for as long as he chooses to use it.

A body he can use to return _home_.

It doesn’t strike him to wonder how Gabriel knew he would make this decision eventually, nor does he question the archangel’s motives in providing him with this escape. It’s not that the thoughts don’t occur to him. It’s that if he has any hope of leaving and not looking back, he can no longer allow himself to care.

~*~

_S’been a few weeks since I saw him. Sam, I mean. Guess…guess it was jus’ my ‘magination after all. Or ‘m jus’ crazy. Kinda hope not, but least if I am, I c’n pretend you weren’ real, any more’n he was. Wish you weren’ real. Then I could stop talkin’ to you, stop pretendin’ you give a crap. ‘M a fuckin’ Winchester, people don’ give a crap ‘bout us. Least’ve all a fuckin’ angel._

_Fuckin’ shit, ‘m so drunk. Haven’ touched this shit in fuckin’ months. Fuck._

_An’ fuck you, you bastard, f’r makin’ me give a crap ‘bout you. Was easier when it was just me ‘n Sammy, ‘n maybe Bobby. Not s’posed to have more family’n that, and you come along an’…_

_Fuck._

~*~

Sliding into the vessel brings a sense of relief, a feeling of _rightness_ that he hadn’t fully expected. Stretching out long limbs, bending his fingers one at a time, rolling his neck to loosen the muscles. He blinks, takes in the world through a type of vision that seems more familiar to him that the vastness of his true angelic sight. He breathes in the scent of pine, and finds comfort in it. His ears pick out birdsong and wind, rustling leaves and running water, and it seems more musical than all the songs of Heaven.

The forest sparkles around him, shimmering in the afternoon sunlight, and he stands naked and lets _sensation_ run over his body for as long as he can afford to stand still. It feels like freedom.

When he finally does conjure clothes for himself, it almost brings laughter to his throat, to feel the familiar swish of the trench coat, the looseness of the tie.

He buries his grace deep, as Gabriel has told him to do, buries it out of sight and binds it to his vessel in a way no angel would ever do save the one who taught him how. It’s not enough. He knows it’s not enough. But it’s a start.

~*~

_Hey, Cas. Been a couple months. I, uh…I dunno if you heard that drunken rambling I was spewing out the last time. If you did, I’m sorry. I don’t…it hasn’t been easy, dealing with…everything. You probably know that, I guess. But still…I made a promise to Sammy not to go back to my old life. I promised I wouldn’t go back to the way we’ve always been, drowning ourselves in alcohol when things get rough, getting suicidal on hunts…_

_I gave up on part of my promise, and that’s somethin’ I gotta deal with. I gotta believe Sammy would forgive me for that, and for going back to hunting. But there are some things I won’t do, because Sam deserves better than a big brother who can’t do anything right. We’ve both screwed up a lot. I’m going to make sure I stop._

_Anyway. I said a lot of crap that night, I think. At the risk of sounding like a total fucking girl…_

_I’m glad you’re real, Cas. I don’t want to forget that. You’re family, and if there’s one thing a Winchester can appreciate, it’s family._

_So. Yeah._

_Just sayin’._

~*~

They never stop hunting him. His grace shines too brightly since his father resurrected him, and they follow it like bloodhounds on a scent. He knows what he needs to do, who he needs to find. The one being in all of creation right now who can help him hide permanently. Or, at least, the only one who may be _willing_ to.

It’s finding him that’s proving to be the problem, and months later, Castiel is no closer to discovering the demon’s hiding place than he was when he first left Heaven. And though he has no proof, he fears the Host is beginning to close in on him. Gabriel’s voice rings in his ears sometimes, warning him when he needs to move, when he can’t stay where he is any longer without endangering his continued freedom. His continued _existence_ , probably, because he knows what the Host does to those who abandon Heaven. By now, it won’t matter if his Father favored him or not.

God won’t give a third chance, not with what Castiel is trying to do, and Raphael will count on that. Raphael will make what he did to Castiel the first time around seem like a mercy killing.

Castiel is running out of time, and he knows it.

A week later, his brand new cell phone, to whom he has given no one the number, begins to ring.

~*~

_Cas, is somethin’ going on in Heaven? Or with the angels in general? I gotta tell you man, of the demons I’ve been able to track, somethin’ up there has ‘em running scared. Never seen anything like it. They’re taking one-way tickets back to Hell like it’s nothing. Only thing I can think of is that your angel buddies are cooking up something nasty, but we’ve been there already. I thought it was over._

_I buckled down and called Bobby, and he’s as confused as I am. Neither of us are turnin’ up any big signs, angelic or demonic. Near as I can tell, there aren’t any angels down here._

_Wish you could tell me what was going on._

~*~

The truth is that Castiel doesn’t know what’s going on any longer with his brothers and sisters. He’s as cut off as he can be, and now that he’s found the person he was searching for, Gabriel has stopped speaking with him as well. He’d thought it would feel lonelier, but somehow, it doesn’t. Perhaps he was always destined for this, perhaps from the moment he pulled a human soul from Hell, a part of him always saw this place as home.

Only that could explain the lengths he’s about to go to keep it.

Dark eyes study him as he takes a polite sip of the brandy he’s been offered. He’s never cared for alcohol, and especially not since that dark period of time after he truly realized his Father didn’t care. But what he’s drinking now is refined, cultured, much like the demon who offered it.

Crowley’s been lying as low as the rest of the demons who still inhabit the Earth, but his tastes for the finer things in life have not diminished. Quite the opposite, the villa Castiel has found him in is grander and more opulent than the last home he remembers Crowley having. Castiel supposes that if anyone could manage so quick a recovery after having so large a price on his head as he did, it would be the king of the crossroads. He sets the glass down carefully, and his eyes meet Crowley’s.

They begin to talk.

~*~

_We finally cracked one of the bastards. Bitch told us about the war goin’ on upstairs. The one where one archangel is about to take on another in an ultimate death match._

_I only know of two fucking archangels still alive._

_Damn it, Cas. God fucking damn it._

~*~

Crowley tells him without mincing words that there’s only one thing he can do, only one way to alter his grace enough that the Host will never find him, only one way to _keep_ his grace and not have to fall and still remain hidden. Crowley tells him that no angel has ever done it. He tells him that no angel ever _would_. He tells Castiel that he has no idea what will happen, or how it will affect him, or what it will mean for his chances of ever returning home. He tells him that it could mean being banished to Hell, becoming one of the true Fallen. He tells him that he’ll help Castiel, but Castiel had better be bloody sure about what he’s doing.

Castiel takes all of this in with a detached, serene expression. When Crowley finishes telling him things, his eyes catch and hold Crowley’s, and he nods once and tells the demon he’ll do it.

Crowley smirks, tilting his head and commenting about humanity and the way they dig themselves under your skin. Then he takes the blade from where it’s been resting on the table and brings it to his arm.

~*~

_If…If it is you…If you’re up there and you’re fucking stupid enough to be battling it out with Raphael… You better fucking win. I swear to God, Cas, you kick that bastard’s ass._

~*~

The line of blood wells immediately, bright against the pale skin. Castiel grasps Crowley’s arm, brings it towards him. He doesn’t tremble, but there is something like fear sparking through him. Something that will always wonder if he’s doing the right thing. Still, in the end, he doesn’t hesitate, because Dean is worth it. Dean has always been worth it.

~*~

_And you come back to me, after. For the love of… Just, come back to me. I need… Fuck. I just need you._

~*~

The first taste is bitter and harsh, and punches through him, burning down his throat and making him gag. The second is easier, still burns, but the burn is changing, spreading, flaring out, taking over. Darkness hovers over and around him, spreading thin lines of shadow and sulfur through a grace that has burned so brightly since he was created millennia ago.

The more he takes, the greedier he becomes.

~*~

_I think… Shit. I think I might love you, Cas._

~*~

Something shatters, inside him, and the blood rebuilds it, remakes it, _reforges_ it, until he is unrecognizable, his grace dark and corrupt but still burning, ever burning, even with something sinful at its center. He is and always will be Castiel, angel of the Lord.

But now he is something more, as well.

Now he is something dangerous.

~*~

_Come back to me._

~*~

Castiel hears Dean as he has always heard Dean. And he will return to him. Of course he will.

~*~

_It’s been two days, Cas. I’d think you were dead, ignoring a prayer like that, except that Sam’s here, telling us things. Sam’s…fucking **here** , and Bobby and I pulled every test we could think of, but he’s really Sammy. And he’s…he’s not possessed, but Lucifer left somethin’ behind in the kid, and he’s pretty tuned in to what’s going on up there._

_He says that you left Heaven months ago, and that Gabriel is somehow the one fighting Raphael. He told me it’s not going well for either of them, and a lot of angels have died, but that’s… That’s not why he came._

_He came back to warn me._

_About you._

_Jesus fucking Christ, Cas, what’d you **do**?_

~*~

Dean is waiting for him, when Castiel finally feels grounded enough, comfortable enough, to fly to him. Castiel should have realized that the hunter would be, should have known that Dean wouldn’t have taken Sam’s warning at face value, but somehow it still surprises him, and warms him. And makes him want the hunter more than he already had, more than he _has_ wanted him for so long now.

Though that wanting has turned more carnal, more _desperate_ , rather recently, and it still has the power to shake him to his core, being able to feel and crave so much, so deeply.

He sits on the park bench beside Dean, leans forward so that his elbows are resting on his knees as he contemplates the children playing in the playground a few dozen yards away. Next to him, the hunter turns to regard him with a silent gaze, eyes searching for whatever it was his brother warned him about. If he finds it, if he sees the shadowy swirls that curl through Castiel’s grace now, he must decide they don’t mean anything, because his hand lands on Castiel’s arm and his eyes fall to Castiel’s lips, and then he’s tugging the angel up and toward him. But he doesn’t kiss him, doesn’t taste him or touch him the way the Castiel wants him to. Instead he wraps his arms around the angel and just clings to him, in a way Dean Winchester has only ever clung to family.

Castiel _is_ family, and Dean is finally willing to show him. With a sigh, he buries his face in Dean’s neck and holds onto him for long moments, listening to Dean murmur his name over and over again, just a whisper of sound breathed into Castiel’s shoulder.

Eventually, a indeterminate amount of time later, they pull away from each other, just far enough for Dean to see his eyes, to see what it is he’s become as he loosens his hold just the slightest bit on his grace. He’s seen the picture it creates, seen the darkness and light swirl together in his eyes when he first tried it in front of a mirror, and he knows that if anything will turn Dean away from him, this will be it. He’s no longer an angel, and he’s certainly not a demon. What he is, he doesn’t know, only knows that he is still _Castiel_ , and that he loves Dean enough to give up everything he once knew for him. Nothing he’s done can take that away from him.

Dean’s eyes widen marginally, and he sucks in a quick breath. Castiel is tense, waiting for him to bolt, and Dean once again manages to surprise him when he cups Castiel’s face as though the angel is the most precious thing in the world to him, and kisses him. It’s soft, and it’s sweet, and it’s everything Dean Winchester rarely is, and it’s not enough.

It’s not nearly enough.

With a thought, Castiel brings them elsewhere, to a motel room in the middle of nowhere, and as long as it’s clean and has a bed, he finds he couldn’t care less where they are or what it looks like. Dean is still kissing him, _molding_ himself to Castiel like he doesn’t realize they’re suddenly standing, suddenly somewhere else entirely, and Castiel realizes that it’s because the hunter _trusts_ him, always, no matter what.

The thought fills him with something he does not recognize and has no name for, something wild and possessive and _needy_. He growls low in his throat and topples them back onto the bed behind Dean, climbing up the hunter, removing clothes with nothing more than his will as he goes. Beneath him, Dean trembles, but it’s not fear that makes him do so, it is desire.

Castiel leans down and plunders his mouth again, his hands moving over the hunter’s body, hips shifting, grinding down into Dean’s. The sounds Dean makes only serve to drive him harder, faster, until, again, it’s _not enough_ , and then he’s lifting, preparing, _burying_ himself inside Dean, and finally, _finally_ , everything clicks into place, and he’s _home_.

~*~

_God…_

_I don’t know if you’re listening, or if you give two shits about any of us anymore. I didn’t know that during the apocalypse your kids started, and I guess I know even less now. You saved Cas, and you saved Gabriel for helping us, so I guess that counts for something, but… You’re kind of a jackass, you know that?_

_Look. You got no reason to listen to me, and you know I normally wouldn’t care what you think or do or say about me. But Cas…whatever your reasons for bringing him back, and however disappointed you are in him for what he chose, don’t you fucking take him away from me. Don’t send him downstairs where they’ll dissect him and…carve into him and…fuck. Just, don’t. You walked away to give them all their own choices, right? Well he chose **me** , and you don’t get to punish us for that. You just…don’t._

_Please._

~*~

Somewhere, the being once known as Chuck Shurley hears Dean Winchester, and he smiles.

-  



End file.
